Tristan would just as soon she hadn't remembered, since he was certain it was the scandal she was recalling. He wished she'd go back to staring at Griffin. "It's a long story—" he began.
"My sisters will explain everything, Lady Rachael," Griffin interrupted. "You came to visit them, didn't you?"
"I came to see you, as your butler has informed you." Recovering her composure, she lifted her reticule off one of the ornate iron treasure chests. "Shall we discuss this somewhere private?"
"Very well," Griffin said and guided her up the staircase, his feet obviously dragging.
Tristan had some trouble dredging up sympathy, given his friend had brought this on himself. Besides, he figured there were worse things than having to answer to a gorgeous woman like Lady Rachael. "I shall arrange for refreshment to be brought to you in the study," he called after them lightly. And with that, he took himself off, leaving his friend to the mercy of his lovely cousin.
There were no servants hovering about, so Tristan made his way toward the side door that led to the household offices and kitchen, hoping to find Boniface, or perhaps the housekeeper or cook. Then, hearing footsteps and feminine voices drifting from the quadrangle, he turned back.
Boniface reappeared from nowhere and opened the door to admit Alexandra, Juliana, and Corinna. "Welcome home, my ladies."
"Good afternoon, Boniface," they chimed in chorus, belying the gray day in cheerful straw bonnets and pale pastel dresses. Walking dresses, Tristan presumed, though for the life of him he couldn't figure what made them such. They were high-waisted and slim-skirted, like all the other dresses he'd seen them wear this summer.
"Lord Hawkridge," Juliana said in surprise. "Have you and Griffin returned already?"
"No, you're seeing a mirage," Corinna quipped.
Juliana laughed. Alexandra didn't.
"What have you there?" Tristan asked, indicating the baskets they all carried.
"Lemon cakes," Juliana said. "Or what's left of them."
"We've just come from the village," Corinna elaborated. "We were visiting with the ill and infirm."
"All of the tenants and villagers look forward to our sweets," Juliana added. "Would you care for one?" Her gaze flicked from him to Alexandra and back as she reached into her basket and handed him a cake. "They're reputed to cure melancholy."
Did he look that distressed? "How kind of you, then, to bring some to the ill." He bit into the lemony confection and smiled, wishing Alexandra would say something. "I was just on my way to procure some refreshment for your cousin, Lady Rachael. Perhaps she'd enjoy some of these."
"Rachael is here?" Corinna squealed. "Where is she? Did Claire and Elizabeth come along as well?"
"I don't believe she brought her sisters with her. She's with Griffin, in his—"
"Griffin?" She frowned. "Whatever does she want with him?"
"Oh, it has to do with some flooding on her land. I think." He laughed, remembering the way they'd interacted. "Has Lady Rachael previously shown an interest in your brother? Or he in her?"
"What sort of interest?" Juliana looked intrigued. "She was little more than a child when he left for Spain."
"She's not a child now."
"Of course she isn't." Juliana handed Alexandra her basket. "Take this, will you? We'll see that refreshments are brought to the drawing room for when Rachael is finished with Griffin."
After a silent moment, she nudged Corinna with her elbow.
"Oh, yes," Corinna said. "Do take mine as well." After shoving her basket at Alexandra, she followed Juliana upstairs.
Alexandra shifted the three baskets awkwardly. "Well," she said as her sisters disappeared.
One word, Tristan thought. It was a start. "They do have a habit of leaving the two of us alone together, don't they?" Doing his best to appear nonchalant, he polished off the rest of the cake.
She crossed to one of the iron treasure chests, set down the baskets, and busied herself combining the remaining sweets into one of them. "They mean well," she said, facing away.
Walking closer, he watched her in the large, rectangular looking glass that hung above the treasure chest. "What do you expect they're hoping will happen?"
Though her cheeks went pink, she met his gaze in the silvery surface and answered in her forthright way. "I expect they think you might kiss me again."
"I won't," he said quietly.
"I know," she said and turned to search his eyes.
They were steely and determined as always. Alexandra supposed she should be grateful for that—it meant at least one of them would keep a clear head.
Since she'd spotted him riding to their door earlier that morning, she'd suffered a riot of emotions: surprise, happiness, annoyance, and confusion. Confusion reigned supreme. She'd been looking forward to the ball, to meeting new—eligible—men. In the past month, she'd thought she'd succeeded in relegating Tris to that role in her life labeled friend.
But a single glimpse of him had cured her of that illusion.
Though she knew it was wrong, her lips fairly ached for the caress of his. Her gaze left his eyes and wandered down to his mouth, which she remembered as being softer than she'd expected. A lock of his hair had flopped over his forehead as usual, and she reached to sweep it away.
He caught her gloved hand. "That won't work this time."
"I know," she repeated.
Their hands dropped together. Slowly his fingers moved up her arm until he was touching bare skin. He grasped her there. "You don't want me to kiss you, do you?"
"Of course not," she said quickly, knowing that was what he wanted to hear.
"Good," he said. "Because I cannot marry you, Alexandra. I cannot marry anyone."
She couldn't marry him, either—not and live with herself when her sisters would pay the price. But surely there were ladies available who didn't have families to consider. She couldn't bear to think of Tris alone all his life. "Do you not wish for an heir?"
His fingers gripped her forearm tighter. "There are other ways a man can leave his mark—perhaps mine will be made in agriculture or mechanics. Marriage and children aren't my fate."
"Fate." He was standing so close, his very scent
